


spy games

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February 2020, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-23 04:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23005480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "The lodge is quiet, like always. From her bedroom window, Maria watches the snow drift down to the ground. There is no sound save for the rustle of tree leaves. Everything is the way it should be.And then the phone rings."Maria is content with her new life, until she gets a phone call from an old friend.
Relationships: Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 3
Kudos: 119





	spy games

**Author's Note:**

> this is the only time i've ever tried to write something even remotely approximating angst, but i think it turned out well. i still couldn't resist giving Nat and Maria a happy-ish ever after. they deserve it.

**a lifetime ago**

In the beginning, Natasha would leave without a word. Just put her clothes back on and walk out. Things were simpler, then. Now Maria falls asleep with her arms wrapped around Nat's waist and a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

Natasha talks in her sleep, tosses and turns, wakes up in a cold sweat. Maria never asks about the nightmares. Instead she just talks, and Natasha listens. She talks about anything and everything: the town she grew up in (Ann Arbor, Michigan), her favourite sports team (the Vancouver Canucks), her childhood hero (Carmen Sandiego). Eventually Natasha falls asleep again, and Maria allows herself to drift off too. 

On the night before Maria’s due to leave, Natasha rolls over and says, "You don't have to go." 

What Maria wants to say is: 

_I'm leaving SHIELD._

_(Or what’s left of it.)_

_I’m not leaving you._

_I would never leave you._

_You could come with me, if you want._

_It doesn’t have to be this way._

But instead she says:

“Yes, I do.”

Maria’s voice cracks as she whispers, “I love you.” 

There’s a pause.

“You don’t have to say it back.”

**somewhere in vermont**

The lodge is quiet, like always. From her bedroom window, Maria watches the snow drift down to the ground. There is no sound save for the rustle of tree leaves. Everything is the way it should be.

And then the phone rings.

In addition to her new house, her new job, and her new life, Maria Hill has a new phone. It's smooth and shiny and looks like something out of _Logan's Run_ , a far cry from the blocky communicator she used as a SHIELD agent. No one, not even Fury, has her number, so her voice carries more than a little trepidation when she answers the call. 

"Who is this?"

There's a raspy laugh on the other line. "Did you miss me?" 

Of course she does. How long has it been since she's heard that voice? 

Not long enough.

Maria wants to hang up the phone and go back to bed and convince herself that she's never been anything other than a small-town cop. Instead, she presses the speaker closer to her ear and just listens to the slow, measured sound of Natasha's breathing.

"Enjoying your vacation, Agent Hill?"

She grits her teeth. Nat always knew how to push her buttons. "It's not a vacation," Maria says, "and I haven't been an agent for a long time." 

"Touchy, touchy. You sound stressed. Maybe you should take a vacation from your vacation. You know, I hear St. Louis is nice this time of year."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"While you're town, stop by the Red Baron. The bartender there is a friend of mine." 

"Red Baron? Natasha, I don’t have time for spy games anymo-"

 _Click_. 

For a few minutes, Maria just stands there, staring at her phone as if the black screen will give her answers. And once again, the lodge is quiet. Like always. 

**burlington international airport**

The next few days pass without incident, because that's the way her life is now. Incident-free. Maria wakes up, gets dressed, drives to the station, does her job. During her lunch break she grabs a sheet of paper from the printer and makes a chart. On the left side: pension plan, gym membership, Christmas vacation, stability. On the right side: long red hair, the way she smiles, inside jokes, no guarantees. 

That evening she books a red-eye flight to Missouri and tells herself that she made the right decision.

**saint louis, missouri**

The Red Baron is dimly lit and smells of stale cigarette smoke. At three o'clock on a Thursday afternoon, the bar is completely empty, save for the broad-shouldered man polishing glasses behind the counter. As she sits down, Maria takes note of his taut muscles, rigid posture, scarred arms; this man was a soldier, once. 

"Maria Hill?" His accent is faint but still recognizably Russian. 

"The one and only." 

"Pleasure to meet you, Agent Hill. My name is Alexei. I've heard a lot about you."

Maria snorts. "I'm sure you have. Wanna tell me what the hell is going on here, Alexei?" 

With a shrug of his massive shoulders he says, "I'm just doing a favour for an old friend. Speaking of which, Natasha wanted me to give this to you." He slides her a postcard. There's an illustration of a beach on the front and a message written in neat, precise script on the back.

_x marks the spot, baby. p.s.: i’m jonesing for you._

She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Get me a drink, Alexei."

**hannibal, missouri**

"Any idea what it means?" Maria sits in a wooden rocking chair, watching the sun set over the mountains. The farm is quiet, isolated, not unlike her lodge back up north. It's easy to see why Clint spends so much time here. There's something peaceful about life in this place, and despite the Bartons' warm welcome, Maria still feels like she's disturbing that peace, like she’s polluting this place somehow.

If Clint senses her anxiety, he doesn’t mention it. Just cocks his head to the side and says, "Indiana Jones. Last Crusade?"

"Never seen it."

"Didn't think so. Basically, in the third movie Indy's looking for his dad, who went missing looking for the Holy Grail and --"

"The CliffNotes version, please."

"--there's a famous scene involving an 'x' carved into the floor of a library."

"Alright," she says, rubbing her temples, "but what does that _mean_?"

"Search me. Google says they shot the library scene at some old church in Venice. It's called San Barnaba. That's the first place that I'd look."

Maria feels a migraine coming on and suddenly she wishes she was back in Vermont filing paperwork. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to be looking for," she mutters under her breath.

**venice, italy**

There's a girl waiting for her. Despite the balmy weather, she's wearing a pair of gloves and a leather jacket, a leather jacket with an 'x' embroidered on the shoulder. 

"Let me guess: you're doing a favour for an old friend." 

"Something like that," the girl says brusquely. She slips Maria a one-way ticket to London and vanishes into the crowd of tourists.

Turning the ticket over in her hand, Maria gazes up at the cathedral. There’s no denying that it’s beautiful, all white marble and stately Roman architecture. She closes her eyes and imagines organ music reverberating throughout the halls. 

On the plane ride to London, she has a dream which she barely remembers: a church in Venice; a girl with red hair in a long, white dress; peals of laughter like wedding bells. 

**london, england**

The restaurant is loud and Maria has to raise her voice in order to be heard. “So what have you been up to?” 

Steve just smiles. He’s wearing what could loosely be described as a disguise, a nondescript hoodie and a baseball hat. Why he hasn’t been recognised yet is beyond her. “Oh, you know. The usual Avengers stuff. Punching Nazis. Making speeches. Saving the world.”

“Making doe-eyes at Barnes when you think no one’s looking…”

“Yeah, that too.” Steve laughs and even though she’s miles away from Vermont, Maria feels right at home. She always liked that, respected that. People could relax around Steve in a way that they never could around her. “What about you? How’s civilian life?”

“Things were going nicely,” Maria says. “I had a house. A car. A Netflix subscription. Then I got a cryptic phone call from an old flame and everything got turned upside-down."

Steve blinks. “Old flame?” He pokes at this fish and chips, perhaps hoping that the polite response has been inscribed on a piece of fried cod. “I didn’t know that you two were...involved.”

“Involved is one way to describe it.” What else can she say? There’s not a word for the undefined, not-quite-love-affair that she and Natasha had together. “I liked her. She liked me. Maybe I liked her a little more than she liked me. I don’t know. We were...involved. It wasn’t ever anything more than that.” 

For a few moments, Steve just stares at her, searching. After a moment he says, “A long time ago you and I were _involved,_ and I don’t think you ever would have flown across the world for me.”

She won’t admit it out loud, but he’s right. And suddenly that gnawing feeling, that sense that things are starting to spiral out of control, returns to the pit of her stomach. There was something real between her and Natasha, something real and substantial, something that she didn't think she was allowed to have. Something that scared her. Maria longs for a case to solve, a face to cave in, a pile of paperwork to file. She settles for the next best thing.

“Where am I off to this time, Rogers? Where’s Natasha sending me next?”

Steve clears his throat and pulls an index card from his jacket pocket. “Looks like you’re heading stateside again.”

The address on the card doesn’t ring any bells, so she defers to Captain Brooklyn. “41st and Broadway. That’s your neck of the woods, right? Any idea what I have to look forward to?”

He shrugs. “I think it’s in Queens. Astoria, if I remember correctly. I took the ferry up there a few times when I was a kid. Probably all condos now.” 

Now there’s not much left to say other than goodbye. Maria stands and begins to collect her things. “It’s been nice talking to you. Until next time, Captain.” Steve opens and closes his mouth, as if he wanted to say something but thought better of it at the last minute. She’s halfway out the door when he calls out to her.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” he says. 

**new york, new york**

In recent years New York City has become the world capital of super-powered weirdness, and rents are (relatively) cheap for the time being. Even so, Maria would never be able to afford a place like this. The beautiful little townhouse is exactly the kind of place she wanted to live as a girl, right down to the tabby cat snoozing in the library. She begins taking books off of shelves, hoping to glean some information about their owner. Whoever lives here has a soft spot for romance novels; there’s _Pride and Prejudice_ , there’s _Gone With the Wind_ , there’s -- there’s someone in here with her.

“Nice place, huh?” Natasha says. She’s sitting on the writing desk, legs dangling just above the floor. “You should check out the kitchen. I’ve got a spice rack and everything.” 

Maria allows herself to breathe again. “Just to clarify,” she says, stepping into the space between Nat’s legs, “you sent me on this little scavenger hunt just so we could talk about your rack?” 

Natasha quirks an eyebrow, wraps her hands around Maria’s neck. “I thought you’d enjoy playing Carmen Sandiego for a few days. More fun than playing cops and robbers, that’s for sure.” 

A scowl etches its way across Maria’s face, and suddenly Natasha looks much more serious.

“Hey,” she says softly. “That’s...that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what exactly did you mean?” 

Natasha looks down at her hands. “Listen,” she says, voice barely louder than a whisper. “I don’t care if you’re a cop, or a SHIELD agent, or a damn fry cook. It doesn’t matter to me. I just want to be with you. Whatever you decide to do, whoever you decide to be.”

What Maria wants to say is: 

_I want to be with you._

_Whatever that means for us._

_Wherever that takes me._

But instead she just says: 

“And what if I decide I just want to be some rich girl’s trophy wife?” 

“That can be arranged,” Natasha purrs, and closes the gap between the two of them. 

**home**

Maria wakes up to the smell of bacon and fried eggs sizzling away on the stove. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes she ambles into the kitchen, where Natasha is sitting on the countertop stirring a bowl of pancake batter.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” Maria says, wrapping her arms around Natasha’s waist. 

Natasha grins. “I’m a woman of many skills.” She presses a kiss to Maria’s jaw and says, “There’s coffee in the pot. May or may not be burnt beyond all recognition. Drink at your own risk.” 

“You made coffee?” Maria says. “God, I love you.”

“Love you more.” 

Early morning sunlight drifts in through the blinds as the two of them go about their morning routine. The air is filled with the clattering of dishes, the rustling of newspapers, the mewling of hungry cats. Maria smiles at Nat, steals a strip of bacon off her plate. Everything is as it should be. 


End file.
